


bring the ice cube to the goal without exposing it to heat

by aut0_resp0nder



Category: Homestuck
Genre: Bulges and Nooks, Caliginous Romance | Kismesis, Clothed Sex, F/M, M/M, Meteorstuck, Multi, Non-Penetrative Sex, Oral Sex, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Time Doubles, first time writing smut dont be mean, i like these three, there thats everything, ummm - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-03
Updated: 2018-07-03
Packaged: 2019-06-01 16:50:12
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,909
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15147569
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/aut0_resp0nder/pseuds/aut0_resp0nder
Summary: dave vriska and karkat hatefuck thats pretty much itedit 8/15/18: fixed the formatting so its not just one big block of text. you're welcome.





	bring the ice cube to the goal without exposing it to heat

vriska presses her back flush against your front, sensually sliding her body upwards so it comes to be level with yours. she turns her head, presses her fangs to your neck—she’s been sneaking rose’s alcohol, you can smell it on her breath, strong and sour green apple pucker against the waxy smell of lipstick and her own unique scent of well-worn clothing and metal. her hands wander around to your hips, and you are suddenly VERY aware of how hard the back of her thigh is pressing on your crotch.

“let me show you the world in my eyes,” she says, her own eyes half-lidded and her tone mocking.

“didnt know you had troll depeche mode,” you choke out between stifled groans of pleasure stemming from the pressure being methodically applied to your raging hard-on.

you suddenly remember last week’s idea. “hey, serket, hop off my dick and watch this.”  
she knows what you’re doing, for god knows what reason, and her mouth turns down as she snarls, “strider, one of you is bad enough, don’t you dare—“  
but then there’s another pair of hands on her and you stare into your own smirk (you can see why she finds it so infuriating) as Future You shoves her farther into the wall (and into you). he clamps his hands around her jaw and draws her into a kiss that stirs your gut around, a violent, angry kiss where her fangs catch on his lip and draw just enough blood to make your stomach swoop, and when she licks it off his chin with her blue-tinged tongue you feel like you could die.

“like the show?” she hisses into your ear, face turned away from Future You, whose slightly bloody mouth is currently worrying at her collarbone. you growl and sharply force your knee up between her legs, making her groan with a dissatisfying mixture of pleasure and pain as your patella connects with her emerging bulge.  
Future You suddenly takes a deep breath before snapping his own head towards you, his shades slightly askew, and raising an eyebrow. you know what he’s asking permission for (and you’re hoping she doesn’t) and you nod carefully, enjoying her small shriek of surprise as Future You surges forward and kisses you forcefully.  
kissing yourself sure is an experience, an experience that tastes like blood and cerulean lipstick as you watch her out of the corner of your eye, steadily flushing darker and darker blue the longer you and Future You stay locked together. you feel Future You’s leg slowly creeping up to her crotch (her bulge is probably tearing a hole in her pants by now) and she seems to barely hold herself back from rutting against it.

“like the show?” you parrot back to her once you and Future You finally separate. you’re met with an alien growl and a scratch to your shoulder for your trouble. she loses her resolve a moment later, shuddering as she grinds down on Future You’s knee for a split second before he tears it from between her legs and disappears.  
“the fuck?” you whisper, nonplussed, before your arousal overtakes you and you grip her by the hips, nipping and biting at the soft flesh of her neck with your blunt teeth. she moans; long, purposefully drawn-out, and so god damn loud that you’re sure the whole meteor must hear it. your suspicions are (partially) confirmed when you hear the door slam open behind you and your mutual kismesis’ shriek of affront and offend.

“you started without me!” yells karkat, striding quickly over to the knot of you and her, starting as she disentangles her arms from you and instead seizes him by the shoulders to draw him into a teeth-clacking kiss. you feel your face heat up as she slowly drags her needle fangs over his tongue, and as he holds her lower lip delicately between his teeth before biting down hard enough for deep blue blood to bead up where his mouth-razors meet her flesh.

at that second, you take the opportunity to join in. he pulls your sunglasses off your face, casting them to the ground, and you hiss in dissatisfaction and annoyance as you scrape your not-quite-claws down his collarbone. he’s breathing heavily, and candy crimson cherry blood too much like your own begins to rise to the surface of his slate-grey skin as you mouth over the divet between his shoulder and neck, sucking one, two, three hickeys into his skin, tortuously slow the way you know he hates.

“hurry up,” she says, her tone seductive, her words vulgar. “i got a nasty case of blue bulge over here. and not the good kind.” her flippancy makes you grind your teeth, her syrupy voice grating on your ears. he looks at you (you’ve probably got steam rising from your ears) to her before he fucking *lunges*, marking bullseye patterns with his sharp, sharp teeth over her shoulder, down her arm, until he gets level with the zipper on her jeans.

“fuck!” she hisses as he yanks her pants over her calves, her bulge suddenly exposed without warning to the chill air of the room. you’re hard again, your own pants uncomfortably tight, and you kick the small of his back to tell him to get a move on. she turns, pressing her back to you once more, as he moves closer to you. her lips crush against your own, her lipstick smearing three miles in every direction on your face. she likes that, you know—she likes to mark you up, so you stay in the bathroom until all the makeup residue’s gone, because it’s the one mark of hers you can control who sees. the other mark is standing muted ruby against his skin, the grey of rolling stormclouds. he drags his tongue (flat, like a cat) up the entire length of her bulge and she muffles a tiny groan in your neck, her fangs digging minicule points into your flesh as you scratch along her thighs.

she rolls her hips, almost unconsciously, and he grabs the base of her bulge to keep her still. she whines, and you crush your lips against hers ferociously, a few lewd noises of your own joining her moaning and keening with vigor. she ruts the back of her thigh against your crotch, and ohhhh, jesus, that’s the ticket. he flicks his tongue over the tip of her bulge and she stifles a shriek, her movement against you becoming more erratic, and you think she miiiiight be close when suddenly he leans back, grins up at her wide eyes, and swallows her bulge whole.  
she *wails* into your mouth, trembling against you, and the rapid undulating pressure on your dick is almost too much to bear. she releases, breathing heavy, and he has to scramble up and out of the way as a rush of translucent blue floods down her thighs and pools at her feet.

“we’ll clean,” you say, biting slightly, softly along her shoulder blade, through her shirt. she growls, her legs quaking. he stands up, flicking beads of genetic material off his fingertips, and turns to you.

“ready?” he asks, a low rumble to his voice, deep and dark and full of lust. you grin and she moans as he plasters himself against you like a wall decal, a hand on your hip and a hand fisted in your hair as he kisses you. he nips at your tongue and you slide a hand down his torso, stopping at his waistband. he snarls against your neck and jams a knee into your crotch and you almost lose your breath—you fucking hate when he does that, and he knows it. she snickers at your misfortune, and you pinch the soft flesh of her arm until she squeals.  
he growls again and you take the hint, forcing your hand past his belt and into his boxers. she halts in the middle of pulling her own pants back up her legs when you settle into a rhythm that makes him buck against you as you work him back and forth, a familiar pressure beginning to pool in your own gut at the way his eyebrows twitch and his teeth grind against your collarbone with more fervor.

“god, fuck, go faster,” he says around a groan, and just to spite him, you stop altogether. she doesn’t pick up your slack, opting instead to slot herself behind him like a tetris block, reach into the front of his pants, and jam two fingers into what can only be his nook.  
he *yells*, and you know why—her nails are razor sharp. but he rocks back against her hand anyway, whining and keening when she pulls back. she grins her fanged grin and licks his jaw.

“nuh-uh, not yet,” she says, her tone mocking, and he yanks a lock of her hair hard enough to send her lips careening into his. you resume your ministrations, and as her fingers scissor inside his nook, your thumb flicks the very tip of him and he shudders, his body wracked with involuntary movement as he comes. you quickly pull his bulge out of his boxers, and aim it at the floor as a gush of slimy red coats your hand.

“boo-yah,” you say, shifting in place in a feeble attempt to relieve some of the ache in your groin. she notices your discomfort and smiles mischeviously, deftly pulling down your boxers in one fell movement, ducking as your hard-on springs out. she grimaces, but your embarrasment melts when you feel his hands on your hips and hers around your shaft.  
his nails prick your sides as he bites you, teeth marks indenting your shoulder, neck and jaw. you grip his hair as a reflex movement, becoming ever the more aware of her nails ghosting along the length of your dick. she kisses the tip in a show of mockery, leaving a blue lip-print, and then flashes her fangs once more as she stands up, up, up, leaning close to where your mouth is on his.

“ready?” she whispers, and you almost lose it right then at the sound of her husky voice. “are you close?”

“yes, god, fuck, please,” you babble before he frustratedly kisses her inches from your own mouth and you fall silent. your silence persists for five seconds, upon which moment she yanks her closed hand down your shaft once, twice, three times, four, five, and you utterly implode.

by the time the fog’s cleared from your mind, you can hardly tell the difference between the two of them (save for their horns), as she’s got her arms around his chest, her wrists crossing at his shoulder blades, his legs stretching out in front of him and his face at her nook. their bulges squirm in unison, and her voice cracks in a final shout as they both come undone simultaneously, pink and periwinkle leaking in streams across the floor.

“omygod, dave,” breathes vriska, looking up at you, her pupils blown wide with lingering lust. you grab both her hand and karkat’s, hauling them up bodily from the ground. their bulges, limp as noodles, slowly slither their way back up into the sheathes of their respective owners as you pull up your pants, tossing them each their own clothes as you do so.

“same time next week?” you ask, half-joking, and they both grin.


End file.
